Would You Like Some Coffee in Your Sugar?
by WolfishMoon
Summary: Captain Horatio Hornblower was never so thankful for his noncommittal cough as the day he drank coffee with a scruffy man called Ryuzaki, despite the two centuries long gap between their lives.


**So, this is another brain-child of my dad's. He likes making me write ridiculous one-shots, and Hornblower's taste in coffee was too good of an opportunity to pass up, seeing as he shares it with L. That is just the thing to get my dad's mind moving. So, blame him, not me.  
This takes place in the sixth book, Beat to Quarters, after stocking up at the Gulf of Fonseca and the first battle with the Natividad. They are en route to Panama, so they have yet to pick up Lady Barbara.  
In Death Note cannon, it takes place just after the G8 summit, just before L's broadcast.**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own either the Hornblower series, or the Death Note series, nor do I ever clam the contrary. I make NO money from the online publication of this FREE-TO-READ FANfiction._**

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Would You Like Some Coffee in Your Sugar?

a one-shot by: WolfishMoon

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The two stared. And stared. And added more sugar to their coffee.  
"Ha-h'm," the elder of the two coughed, adding another spoon of sugar. The dark haired youth mirrored the action, scanning Hornblower cautiously. The younger of the two simply appeared that morning, though how it was possible for a man to simply appear in his cabin days away from any land was a mystery to the captain.  
"I... am unsure of my whereabouts," the young man said after a moment, adding more sugar to his cup. Both men liked their coffee the same way - sugared to a syrup. "That isn't something that happens often," he reiterated.  
"Ha-h'm," Hornblower responded, wondering if perhaps this was a stowaway who'd somehow gone mad after successfully keeping himself hidden for so many months at sea.  
"Could you perhaps tell me where I am?" The youth questioned, head cocking slightly to the side.  
The captain took several moments to decide the best course of action. With his surgeon dead, and his acting-surgeon a useless lump, he couldn't pass the problem on. They both added another spoon of sugar, the coffee was becoming more of a paste than anything else, and, Hornblower thought, here is a man with good taste - if nothing else.  
He decided to answer the question, "You are on the HMS Lydia, en route to Panama."  
"Hmm," The man blinked, "And how far away from Panama are we?"  
"A few days, if the wind keeps up."  
The scruffy young man's already round eyes became almost impossibly so.  
"That... is very strange, are we on a sailing ship?"  
"Ha - h'm," Hornblower furrowed his brow. The man was decidedly odd.  
"And what is the year?" the youth questioned.  
"1808, June," Hornblower answered after a moment of further deliberation.  
"Yes, very strange, considering that just minuets ago I was in the year 2008, in Japan, investigating the recent string of unexplained heart attacks in criminals. I have yet to prove that a person or persons is behind this, but it seems to me the only plausible theory."  
Hornblower nodded as though he understood, hoping it would placate the man. Not that he seemed to need any placating.  
"I am sure you are just as in the dark as I, Captain. There is no need to pretend otherwise."  
Hornblower made his noncommittal cough again before slurping at the sugary paste in his cup.  
"May I enquire as to your name?" the youth queried.  
"Hornblower," the captain responded.  
"I see," the scruffy youth said vaguely, "you may call me Ryuzaki."  
"Ha - h'm."  
A few awkward minuets passed, the only noises being the indistinct voices of the crew and the creaking of the boat.  
Just as Hornblower was about to interject with a well placed 'Ha - h'm,' the other man froze, "It's happening again," he muttered, looking about him curiously. With that, the scruffy, bare foot, oddly dressed, and seemingly sleep deprived man disappeared from Hornblower's quarters with a poof of smoke.  
He must going mad, Hornblower decided, looking at the cup of coffee in his hand and wondering if perhaps El Supremo had laced the grounds with something. He disregarded the thought. If the self-proclaimed 'God' had, it was too late to do anything about it.  
With that in mind, Hornblower comforted himself instead of indulging in further worry - at least his hallucinations had good taste in coffee.


End file.
